


Playtime

by quiet__tiger



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Drama, Gen, Hostage Situations, Joker loves Batman, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 06:52:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10714413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: Tim spends some quality time with the Joker.





	Playtime

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Hostage."
> 
> Originally posted to Livejournal 15th-Oct-2009.

Tim hated being taken hostage. Not that there was probably anyone out there who _enjoyed_ it, but as Robin, it was embarrassing. Dick had been kidnapped numerous times as well, so it wasn’t as if Tim was the first.

But still.

And by the _Joker_.

Other villains, even the elaborately dressed, extra-crazy ones, wouldn’t have been such a problem, but the Joker had been fighting Batman for a long time, and knew a lot of the tricks that came with the cape and cowl.

A hidden thug had knocked Tim unconscious during what had seemed like a simple mugging. Now his gauntlets were missing, and so were his boots. There were two thugs lying unconscious on the floor from the protective electric shock on Tim’s utility belt. The belt itself was across the room. He felt naked without those pieces of his costume, though apparently no one could figure out how to detach his cape.

Wrists and ankles bound to the chair he was sitting on, which was in turn bolted to the floor in the middle of the room, Tim could only watch as the Joker paced up and down the dank room. He looked impatient, like he was waiting for something. But what?

After another few minutes of watching the Joker walk and periodically glance at his bare wrist, he heard muffled yelling behind him. He tried to turn but didn’t have enough leverage. Joker’s head, however, shot up and he stomped behind Tim. “I told you to be quiet!”

The only response was what sounded like muffled, hitching breathing and crying. Was there another hostage with him? Glad the Joker hadn’t gagged him, Tim asked, “Who else did you kidnap? It doesn’t sound like Nightwing.”

“I didn’t need _both_ of you. And you’re easier to carry.”

Being short was good for _something_ , Tim supposed.

“Behind you, Boy Hostage, are my first two stolen children. They’ve been here for almost a week. But Batsy hasn’t shown up to claim them. I guess they didn’t warrant notice.” Joker leapt into view again from behind Tim’s left side. “With you, though, Batsy is sure to show up! Even if you didn’t have some sort of tracking device, as I’m sure you must, he’d just _have_ to come! We haven’t had playtime in _so_ long!” The sickening grin widened even further. “You’re just the bait. But we can still have fun if you’d like.”

From seemingly out of nowhere Joker produced a deck of cards and an unlabeled bottle of liquor. He raised one in each hand as he offered, “Rum? Ginny? Or is that the other way around? It’d be hard for you to play without your hands anyway. And I know I can’t untie you. You’ll no doubt run away before Batman could get here, and that wouldn’t be any fun at _all_.”

“You know he’ll be expecting a trap.” It wasn’t exactly the first time a Robin had been kidnapped to use as bait to try to lure Batman to an untimely death.

“But of course. I’d expect nothing less.” There was almost a look of _fondness_ on the Joker’s white, garish face. Not that Tim didn’t know the Joker had certain horrifying _feelings_ for Batman, but that didn’t make seeing such expressions any less disgusting.

Joker tossed the cards across the room towards the table with Tim’s belt, but unscrewed the cap on the liquor bottle and drank from it. “I’d offer you some, but I don’t think you’re even allowed to vote yet, and I don’t want Daddy Bat getting angry at me for corrupting you.” He leaned down into Tim’s face, and it took all of Tim’s willpower and Bat training not to jerk his head back. “At least not with something silly like alcohol.”

That was… Okay, Tim was starting to feel a little afraid. It wasn’t unprecedented for the lunatic in front of him to injure a Robin to get to Batman. He hadn’t done anything but breathe on him yet, but it was still early. The longer it took Bruce to come get him, the greater chance there was that the Joker would get bored.

A bored Joker was nothing to laugh about.

A bored Joker led to far too much screaming and pain and nausea.

Trying to buy time and distract his captor, Tim suggested, “How long has it been since Batman played with you?” Everything with the Joker was a game. It paid to remember that. Innocent objects became weapons, like the exploding teddy bears from a couple months ago. Dangerous things became props and gags, like those guns with the _Bang!_ flags in them.

And then there were the times guns were guns, bombs were bombs, and piles of teddy bears provided cover or padding.

Joker drew back and looked as thoughtful as it was for him to look. “Since he put me back in Arkham, I suppose. A few weeks ago. It had been such a long night running around the city that I didn’t mind going back. Well, I minded, but after our play date I could use the rest. And the blue pills.” Joker placed the bottle on the floor, then started to pace again, hands clasped behind his back when he wasn’t gesturing wildly. “But since I broke out last week, nothing! I guess he had more important things to do than come play with me.” He sniffed indignantly. 

Tim thought back to last week, and remembered that Bruce had been sick and forced to stay in bed, and the rest of the Bat crew had been busy with other villains. The Joker was usually the number one priority, but if he didn’t make his location known either intentionally or by mistake, there wasn’t much to go on. Bruce had already mapped every known Joker haunt and several possible new ones, but he hadn’t been there.

“He didn’t mean to ignore you. He was sick.”

“The Batman? _Sick_?” Thick eyebrows were raised high on Joker’s white forehead, wide mouth in what passed for an “o.” “I guess he must get sick sometimes. He’s Bat _man_ , not Bat _robot_. I’d have made him some chicken soup had I known. Just more secrets between us, I suppose.” Another indignant sniff.

Knowing he had to keep him talking, Tim continued, “He’d appreciate that next time.” Appreciate it, analyze it for toxins before incinerating it, same thing.

“I bet he would, all wrapped up in a blanket. Or does he hang from the ceiling wrapped in his cape? Can’t eat soup while hanging upside down. Other things to do, but not eat soup.” Joker checked his bare wrist again. “Maybe I’ll ask when he gets here. _If_ he gets here. He has to get here.”

The _look_ Joker was shooting in Tim’s direction was unsettling. The psycho pacing the room was clearly impatient, but looked like maybe he was getting ideas. The kind of ideas that led to regular people crying and shouting and dying.

Joker stopped pacing in front of Tim, and drew himself up to his full height before leaning forwards back down into Tim’s face. He grinned sickeningly. “Maybe I should teach him a lesson about punctuality.”

“Such as?” Tim hoped his fear wasn’t evident to the madman currently sizing him up. Surely his heart wasn’t beating as loud or fast as it seemed to be.

“Such as he shouldn’t be late for a play date. No one says I _have_ to keep you in one piece while I wait. You’ll still _be_ here. Well, some of you will be over _there_.” He jerked his head towards the far corner of the room. “Or maybe… You’re the third Robin, right? I can give you a nice number three right here…” With one bony finger he traced a number three on Tim’s forehead. “And oooo, with an ‘R’ for Robin. The three Rs! Reading, ‘riting, and rodents who fly!” He cackled at his own joke and Tim tried not to shudder.

Joker stood up straight again, and stuck one hand into his pocket. He brought it back out again with his fingers wrapped around a pocket knife. “Now, Boy Hostage, this won’t hurt a bit. And by that I mean I won’t feel any pain at all. Or would you rather be branded? Surely I have something around here…”

Tim prayed Joker wouldn’t remember about the shuriken on his tunic. It would certainly make a nice tool to brand the Robin “R” into his skin.

Distraction. Tim had to keep talking to prolong anything the Joker might do to him or the hostages behind him. “Batman won’t play if you hurt me.” That was a complete lie. Batman would “play” as long as the Joker kept “inviting” him.

“I disagree, Boy Hostage. He kept playing after the other Robin. And after Batgirl. He’ll _always_ play with _me_. Long after _you’ve_ shuffled off the mortal coil.” Joker checked his bare wrist again. “Which will be shortly.”

Gambling, Tim said, “Batman doesn’t even like to play with you.”

The _shift_ from grinning impatient Joker to _furious_ Joker would have rocked Tim back on his heels if he’d been standing. The knife blade suddenly pointing between his eyes didn’t help, either. “Don’t you say that! That’s not true! He loves to play with me!”

“I lied before. He wasn’t sick. He just had play dates with Catwoman and Penguin. And tonight he’s with Two Face. That’s why he isn’t here.”

That was a veritable _howl_ of anguish coming from the Joker. “You _lie_!”

“Why would he want to play with you? What can you give him that they can’t?”

“He made me! And he exists because of me! I’m the reason he’s here! I’m the reason he’s still around! What would he do with himself if I weren’t here, if he wasn’t with me? Knit? Whittle?”

“He’d find other friends. Even more friends than he has now!” Tim forced himself to smile and not throw up. “Come on, wouldn’t he be here if he wanted to be with you? If he didn’t have better things to do?”

Joker’s expression flitted between fear and doubt and anger and rage, and then he started shaking. “Where _is_ he? I’ll show him he can’t cancel on me! And without calling!” But then he seemed to realize who he was talking to, and calmed down a bit. “Well. If he’s not going to play, I guess you’ll have to do. You can be my friend. I always treat my friends smashingly.”

Tim _really_ didn’t like the way the Joker was looking at him. All he could think about were Joker’s other “friends” and some of his “pets,” mouths stretched wide from some form of Smilex or Joker gas or whatever new poison the Joker devised. The victims’ eyes frozen in a horrible mix between uncontrollable artificial joy and crippling fear.

Would the Joker do that to him? Jokerize him? Before or after he carved letters and numbers into his face? Would he keep him alive? Forever laughing at nothing?

_Where the hell was Batman?_

Standing in Tim’s personal space once more, the Joker held the blade of the knife in his hand and tapped the handle against Tim’s forehead. “What font to use…Helvetica? Times? I’m partial to Jokerman, of course, but it’s hardly practical for such matters as these.”

Tim thought about fighting back, but he had no leverage. Joker knew how to tie up Robins. And if he did fight back, he’d no doubt get stuck with the knife somewhere other than his forehead. Or the people behind him would.

Better to wait. Batman would be here.

The knife was now just resting against Tim’s head, and he could see the stained smiley face stickers on the blade. Blood stains. Joker muttered, “At least I don’t have to worry about italicizing. Who ever thought word processors would make things easier?” He tossed the knife up into the air and caught it by the handle. Leaning down to look Tim in the eyes again, he growled, “Keep your eyes open. I’ll know if you close them, mask or not.”

Gripping Tim’s head and pushing his hair back with one hand, Joker raised the tip of the knife and pressed it into Tim’s skin. The metal was cold and sharp, a stinging pain, and Tim tried not to gasp.

“Eyes open, Boy Hostage. I want you to remember this play date. Surely it will be the first of many! …or your last. Either way.”

Joker moved the tip of the blade slightly—was he making an R or a 3—and opened his mouth to say something else, but then there was a horrible cracking sound and the Joker collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

In front of Tim stood Batman, finally, and he looked _pissed_. “Robin, are you okay?” He untied Tim’s restraints then did a cursory check for visible injuries.

It was a few moments before Tim could get enough saliva to grit out, “Yes.”

Batman’s relief was evident in the way the tension dropped out of his shoulders. “Thank God. You’re pretty far underground so even once I located your signal it took time to find you.”

“How’re the other…?” Tim turned to see two young boys crowding together in their restraints, tears dripping from wide eyes.

He and Batman took time to untie the other hostages and call in a report to Oracle. Then Batman asked, “Was this the ‘use Robin as bait to get to Batman’ plan?”

“Yes. Nothing new.” Rubbing his wrists, Tim asked, “How badly did he cut me?”

Batman looked at the wound closely and wiped blood away with his thumb, but assured, “Not bad. You shouldn’t scar.”

“He was going to carve a three into me. Or an ‘R’ for Robin.”

“You’re okay now.”

“I know.” He could cry with relief later.

The Joker was restrained and dropped back off at Arkham to get his cracked skull examined, and the other hostages were given over to the police. In the Batmobile on their way back to the Cave, Bruce tentatively asked Tim, “If you want to talk about anything he said or did…”

“A lot of talk about playing with you. He’s sick.”

“Yes, he is. Everything is a joke or a game. Especially the lives of others.”

“He kept talking about tonight being a play date.”

“He’s delusional. Don’t obsess over anything he does or says. I have and all it’s done is make me more confused. He’s predictable until he chooses to be unpredictable, or his unpredictability itself is predictable.”

“I know.” And Tim did know. He was just most recent in a long line of people taken hostage by or nearly killed by the Joker. He knew he was lucky to be alive.

He also knew that he’d have to be even more careful from now on if the Joker did consider him a “friend.” It gave a new meaning to the expression “friends until the end.”

He could only hope the Joker’s end came first.


End file.
